"Can we help you any?" asked Mollie, as she stopped her car. Mollie was always glad to help people.
"Wa'al," said the man slowly, "if you had a new axle it would be a help. But I know you haven't. What riles me most though, is that the rascal will get away from me."
"Are you after some one?" asked Mr. Blackford, catching at the man's words.
"Yes, I am; after as slick a swindler as has been around these parts in a long time. He done me out of a bunch of money not long ago, and only a little while ago I got word that the same man is peddling stuff in Franklin. I hitched up, as soon as I could, intending to go to Franklin and have him arrested. But this pesky axle had to break, and now I can't go on. It's the only rig I have, too. I heard that the fellow intends to go out on the noon train. Then I may never hear of him again."
"Can't you telephone?" asked Mr. Blackford.
"There's no 'phones around here, and if I did it would be hard work to hold him. There'd have to be a warrant, and I'd have to swear to a complaint. My mere word over the wire wouldn't be enough, I'm afraid. And it's near noon now. I don't know what to do."
Ruefully he gazed at his disabled carriage.
"I have it!" cried Mollie. "Come in the auto with us. We have room for one more, with a little crowding. We can get you there before noon, and perhaps you can have the man arrested."
"Good!" cried the swindled farmer. "I'll do it!"